


Home Is Where He Is

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bisexual Dean, Canon, Castiel in the Bunker, Episode: s09e07 Bad Boys, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Fluff, Humor, I Actually Squeezed In Plot Instead of All Cute Yay, It's Referenced Anyway, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Slow Dancing, Spoilers, Spoilers up to season 10, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, cute kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-15 03:39:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8041069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: Dean frowns. Most days, he feels like a paperweight, constantly holding people down. Others, he feels like the piece of paper underneath. And it's statements like those, statements that hold weight, that anchor his chest with self-doubt. So instead, he gives into a different kind of pressure in his chest. The kind that makes him feel weightless: The kind that only comes from gazing upon Cas.





	Home Is Where He Is

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a very special day in history: Happy Destiel Day, everyone! 9-18-2008 <3
> 
>  
> 
> (I'm early, I know, I'm sorry, I get super excited when this day rolls around......)

 

 

"Give me one good reason."

Cas peers up from his spider web-secured textbook with a pointed look. The Men of Letters archives date back to James Dean and drive-in theatres and whatever came before that; there’s probably hundreds more books collecting dust in the catacombs of the Bunker. “Dean, we have a case to work.”

There’s an edge that creeps into Cas’s tone near the end, and Dean persists, even though he knows Cas can control, alt., delete him from cyberspace right now: “Just one.”

Cas glares up at him with the power of a thousand burning witches at the stake. Dean throws up his hands, currently holding two large, floppy discs that glint under the overhead light. “Banshees only feed at night, alright? We know where it’s gonna be and how to kill it, so until then, we wait.”

“What if we miss something?”

“We’re Winchesters, Cas. The only thing we’re missing is self-esteem and an extra bottle of Jack.”

Cas sighs, though his answer doesn’t come out right way. "I don't know how,” he murmurs.

"Okay, I can work with that,” Dean replies, stifling a laugh as he sets one record down, and places the other in the player. After a few clicks and pops that put Rice Crispies to shame, the Penguin’s “Earth Angel (Will You Be Mine)” plays softly in the background. “Do you trust me?"

"With my life."

Dean frowns. Most days, he feels like a paperweight, constantly holding people down. Others, _he_ feels like the piece of paper underneath. And it's statements like those, statements that _hold_ weight, that anchor his chest with self-doubt.

So instead, he gives into a different kind of pressure in his chest. The kind that makes him feel weightless: The kind that only comes from gazing upon Cas.

He blushes, even though he's done this a thousand times, lifting Cas and taking his hand in his. Cas blinks slowly, long eyelashes like windshield wipers adjusting to the rain while his eyes try processing the road ahead. It's rocky, if anything. There's a bunch of warning signs for speed bumps and learning curves, and probably a few pot holes if you drive far enough.

But Cas wraps his hand around Dean's, and together they make a stick shift that propels them forward. There's even a little satisfactory hum from the engine when Dean molds their bodies together."Mmm,” Cas muses, pressing his head into the crease of Dean's shoulder, “this is nice."

Dean leans into the embrace, drinking in the aftershave and early-morning sex sticking to Cas's tanned skin, despite the chuckle that rises out of him faster than fresh dough, "We gotta sway first. Or else we’re just hugging the hell out of each other.”

“I’m fine with that,” Cas mumbles into his neck.

Once they’re moving in sync with each other, Dean allows his sleep-deprived bones to relax; including his head, which lolls a little on the side of Cas’s when he confesses: “I haven’t danced with anyone, either.”

Cas dips his head back to stare directly into the sun that’s Dean’s emerald-yellow eyes, but, true to his roots, keeps his chin planted on Dean’s shoulder. “Really?”

Dean nods as he starts to think maybe Cas is the sun in this analogy: his face burns so easily around him. “I must’ve practiced a whole week, day and night, after promising Robin I’d take her to the homecoming dance. Of course, my dad had other plans.”

Dean sniffs dryly, looking at the ground, then back at Cas. “But that’s okay. I mean, nervous as hell doesn’t even cut it. The thought of missing a step in front of a school of people I didn’t know and wouldn’t know the next day, no problem. But screwing up in front of _her_ …”

Cas’s mouth curves into a smile, stretching the indents in his light pink lips. “That’s my one.”

“What?”

“That’s my one,” Cas repeats as the song starts to die on the mouth of the speakers. He pulls back to look at Dean fully, but they don’t stop dancing. “That’s the _real_ reason I didn’t want to dance. Not because Sam might walk in, but because it’s _you_ I’m dancing with. The thought of potentially embarrassing myself in front of you offset my wanting to do it.”

“Cas, you’ve showed up on my car, naked, covered in bees. I think we’re five states past embarrassment.”

“True, but—”

“I helped you get ready for your first date. Which, in hindsight, I’m sorry was ever a thing. If I had known she was gonna pull that stunt, I would’ve taken you for a _proper_ night-out—”

“Dean—”

“I did get to take you out for burgers that one time… even though I ate both our meals… and I dampened the mood a little when I asked you to gank me if I went He-Wolf. Not my _best_ choice of words…”

Cas laughs again, but this time it’s terser. He takes the hand intertwined with Dean’s and cups his face. Dean sinks into his hand like a new pillow. Their eyes lock after Dean takes a breath. Thankfully his timing is right, because then Cas is stealing it away just as quick by pressing his lips to his.

It’s soft, the kiss. No tongue, no heat, no motive behind it other than simply to express affection like Dean isn’t used to. It’s a type of affection Dean’s never been able to fight for, like he’s fought for everything his whole life, because he never had it to begin with. Time has proven again he and his brother have had to scratch, claw, poke, and bleed just to find their way back to each other.

This, this is something he’s never known. Something he never thought he deserved. Something he thought was so unattainable, he just stopped thinking he wanted it.

And boy, kissing Cas back now with equal gentleness, he couldn’t have been more wrong.

And though he’s in the heart of the Bunker now, Dean can’t help but think he’s finally found home.

 

 

 


End file.
